On The Brink Of War

Photo Courtesy of CBC: Staff Photo, 2002-03/First Foreign Assignment
Current Location: Midland, Michigan, USA / 43°37′25.0″N 84°13′45.7″W

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about Afghanistan, the war, the people, the tragedy. I have flash backs. Nightmares. Sweat and chills coherently flow through my body--a mixture of fear and anxiety correlating at the vortex of my dreams. Reading the news each day, Afghanistan ironically piques my interest, stirs up convulsions in my mind and makes me wish I was there again. It's strange.

I got a call the other night from a good friend in England--David Bruer, an independent producer currently freelancing with Al-Jazeera. He called me out of the blue at 3am--my time. Dazed in my sleep, I originally thought it was my brother and began to panic (he never calls at 3am). Dark, cold, and confused, I crawled out of bed, sat up on the edge and tried to get my mind in focus.

"Ron....you there?" he says. "This is Dave!"

Shit. Dave never calls to say hi. Within seconds, I already knew the purpose of his call. My heart began beating faster than I could breath--the air felt so thin--and just like the flash of a synapse, my past experiences in Afghanistan flickered in my head in slow motion replays.

"I've got an assignment for you..." he says.

I didn't really care what he had to say after that. I wasn't listening. In my head, I saw my mother, father, brother, friends and family. In my heart, I saw adventure. I wanted to break away from the mundane world I live in and again witness first-hand the brutality of life at war--the triumphs and tragedies of man and his might. Out there, the pain is palpable, you can breath it in the air. For some reason, I miss that.

"I'll have to get back to you, Dave. I've got a lot goin' on right now..." I said.

We said our good-byes. I waited to hear the click on his end before hanging up. I sat there the rest of the night--pondering my options, wishing for an answer that could ease my mind. It never came. And slowly, the sun rose before me, birds sang to the tune of an orchestrated melody, the wind whispered through my window.

Tonight, I will call him back.